Текст книги "More Than a Memory "

Автор книги: Amber Nation

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter 5

Eden

The evening started off with a bang; I had never been into Tillie’s Tavern but remembered growing up wishing that I could just see the inside. After crossing the line from the dreary weather of Oregon into the dimly-lit wooden structure, I could see why the place had been a favorite for so long. I could almost imagine the entire process it took to make it into the beautiful structure that it was. From the lumberjack finding the best-grained wood from the tallest of oak trees, to the contractor working closely with the architect making sure his vision was fulfilled in every way possible. That took me back to thinking about Baylor, who admittedly hadn’t been off of my mind since I saw him at the airport. Would he appreciate everything that had gone into the building? I knew he had a passion for architecture since that’s what he had wanted to go to school for. I felt a pang in my chest because I really didn’t know anything about Baylor or Dean anymore, even though at one point in time I would’ve said that I knew them almost better than they knew themselves.

I took in all of the faces in Tillie’s, some I recognized but most I didn’t and it was almost a relief. I took a little extra time trying to scope out the room to make sure Baylor or Dean weren’t there. And since the coast was clear, it didn’t take me long to loosen up my tension and indulge in several rounds of alcohol. It wasn’t long before I started to feel a little tipsy, and then Marcie had the ingenious idea to partake in a little karaoke.

As we looked through the song catalog on the computer she released a little squeal and pointed to her choice, “Can we do this song? Please! I absolutely love it.” I inwardly grumbled at her selection, because I still remembered that Prince was the last artist I had heard during the graduation party at her house and there she was picking another song by him. Can we say ironic? What was the deal?

After my brief hesitation she glanced up at me, “Do you not know the song?” Which caused another grumble to threaten to erupt. Of course I knew the damn song, I knew most songs. IT WAS MY JOB!

I had to mentally chide myself to simmer down and not let something so meager get me all worked up. “I know it,” I replied with very little emotion backing my statement. After releasing a deep sigh, I said “Let’s do this.” I supposed that I couldn’t make any bigger of a fool of myself than the screamer on stage was doing already.

The lady that was singing “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion was finally finished and I was extremely thankful that my eardrums were still partially intact. Sheesh, with howling like that, everyone should’ve been counting their lucky stars they didn’t rupture.

With a little too much enthusiasm, Marcie grabbed my hand and all but dragged me up the stairs, turning to give her husband a wink and an air kiss before the music began. Seeing their affectionate gestures towards each other made me miss even more what I didn’t have. Lord only knew if I would ever have the opportunity to have someone love me and be on the receiving end of the kisses that I blew their way.

The music began, indicating our cue to start Kiss by Prince. I wouldn’t call myself an excellent singer by any means, but compared to the comical squeaking that was flying out of Marcie’s mouth, I was Diana Ross. She was far more tipsy than me and I wanted to envy her for her ‘not give a shit’ attitude, so I was going to take a page out of the book that was Marcie and not care either. We each started making little dance movements around the stage instead of being complete zombies standing in place. I even got into the part where Prince makes the kiss noises, making a few of my own while I shimmied my shoulders. I couldn’t match Prince’s impressive set of pipes that went in a multitude of ranges, so during the parts of the song where he would have done his highest falsetto I forced my voice as hard as I could to reach somewhat up to his levels. At least no one was covering their ears, so I thought we couldn’t have been doing half bad. In that moment I almost felt sexy; guys had their eyes glued to me and it just boosted my confidence even more.

The song ended entirely too quickly and I eagerly voiced my opinion about rounding up another song. Marcie just shrugged her shoulders, which had me quickly running down to pick my choice. I had to do another fun song and who wasn’t more fun than Lady GaGa? So I chose her song Do What You Want and ran back into place before it began. Although I didn’t have the distinct and loud fashion sense that Miss GaGa instilled, I still enjoyed her fun spin and eclectic taste of her music.

When the song was about halfway over I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye. I searched the room and ran across a table that literally took my breath away. My words faltered as I completely forgot the lyrics to the song.

How long had Dean and Baylor been there? By the amused expressions on their faces I had to guess the entire time.

It didn’t take me long to get back in tune with the song, but my movement around the stage had pretty much ceased. I stood stock-still and my expressions remained stoic. I was willing the song to end but it was going against me, trying to prove me wrong by continuing on. I needed it to end so I could scramble back to my seat and out of the scrutiny of my former best friends and my first love. Once the song did end I all but dropped my microphone and rushed back to my table where Marcie’s husband was waiting with stars in his eyes for Marcie to sit down. My carefree mood and actions had quickly dissipated with one look at those faces from the past. I was ready to duck out and head for home, especially when the jukebox powered on with a slow song and Marcie’s husband Jack asked her to dance, leaving me sitting at the table alone.

Hell, I was used to being by myself, but I had never truly felt more alone than I did at that moment. I placed an elbow on the table and perched my chin in the palm of my hand, thinking that maybe I could call Julia and see what she was up to. It had to be more thrilling than what I was doing. I was trying my hardest not to look at the other side of the room and into Baylor’s eyes; I didn’t need an emotional breakdown. I didn’t know why I had thought that coming back home would’ve been such a good idea. He didn’t even make a move to smile or wave at me in the airport, so he clearly didn’t want to talk to me and by golly I wasn’t going to seek him out.

Just as I decided that I was going to call Jules and leave, a set of hands grasped my shoulders and I felt hot breath on the shell of my ear. My breath hitched because it could’ve been only one of two people and I was praying to God that it was Dean.

“A beautiful lady such as yourself shouldn’t be left all alone. You’re lucky it was me who came by to snatch you up instead of some stranger,” Dean’s deep voice reverberated in my ear causing me to smile widely. He always had the ability to make me smile. I craned my neck around so I could look at his face and he didn’t waste another minute before extending his hand and asking for a dance.

His large hands encircled my waist as we reached the center of the building where everyone else was dancing, and my hands instinctively wrapped around his neck. With the space that was between us I felt like we were at a junior high dance but it was nice to be able to see his face.

It didn’t take him long before he started firing off questions; I just hoped that he didn’t repeat the same one that he had at the airport. I would answer any other question but that.

“So Miss Eden, what is it you do now?” he asked much like a game show host with a fake accent.

“I actually cohost a morning radio show in Nashville.”

His eyes grew wide, “So you have a website where virtually anyone could get ahold of you?” I was utterly confused by his question, but it was all but forgotten as he skipped ahead without even waiting for an answer. “I am so happy that you actually fulfilled your dream and earned your own radio show. And if I may be so bold, your voice alone is fucking hot. I can tell that your listeners love it as well.” Being bold was always Dean’s thing, so it was no surprise to me that he would’ve continued on with that trait. But him saying that he liked the sound of my voice left me not knowing how to respond.

So I did whatever I could to redirect the questioning away from me. “Blaine, my cohost, and I get along really well. We have a fun morning show that earns a lot of laughs. I’m proud of our little show.” I didn’t want to toot my own horn, but our show had received some prestigious awards for the area and that was saying a lot since we weren’t a country station.

“What is it that you do now that you’re all grown up?” I decided to put him in the limelight for a bit and give myself a bit of a rest.

“Who said I was all grown up?” he said in a flirty tone which earned another smile from me. “No, in all honesty, I’m actually a divorce lawyer. So while you are loved in your profession, people either dreadfully hate me or are repulsed by me.” He shrugged his shoulders. I definitely hadn’t seen that coming, Dean a divorce lawyer?

I wanted to make a little joke, but I didn’t know if he would take it the same way as he would’ve all those years ago. I decided to go ahead and take a shot. “So how many of your own divorces have you done?” I asked it in a light-hearted tone so he wouldn’t think I came across as a bitch.

“Two,” he answered flatly with not even an ounce of emotion.

“That bad, huh?”

“You could definitely say that again,” he finally cracked a smile which lowered my blood pressure rate again after he spiked it when I thought I said the wrong thing.

“You remind me of my best friend, Julia. She’s been married AND divorced twice just like you.”

His smile disappeared. What did I say?

After the questioning look I gave him, his voice lowered to a whisper which had to be lower than low since his voice was so deep, “We used to be best friends, Eden…The three musketeers, don’t you remember that?”

That was not how I wanted the conversation to end. “I’ve never forgotten, Dean. I thought of you every single day, believe it or not.”

The song was nearing the end and he gently pushed a strand of hair to the side of my face and said with a small smile, “We’ve missed you, Eden.” Not just I, but we. With the closing notes, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against my cheek, giving me the faintest of kisses. My heart broke all over again for the friend that I left behind. The friend who had nothing to do with what happened and was thrown in the middle when he was just an innocent bystander during the downward spiral of my departure. I hoped that he would someday forgive me for my naivety as I hadn’t meant for him to get burned in the crossfire.

He walked away sadly with his head hung low which just further decreased my already depressed mood. I didn’t realize the effect I would have on everyone after being gone for so many years; I guess it was rather presumptuous of me to think they’d be happy to see me again. I tried to walk back to my seat when a strong hand grasped mine from behind.

“Eden, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?” His voice was slight as if he was almost unsure of himself. That wasn’t the Baylor that I once knew, the old Baylor was confident in everything and never held any doubt.

I stood there rooted to the spot as I glanced down at where ours hands connected and then back into Baylor’s emerald eyes. My nipples immediately pebbled underneath my dress and the desire that burned deep in my core just from this one simple touch was an inferno. I was no longer on the verge of being tipsy from my previous alcohol consumption, no, I was suddenly stone-cold sober. If I responded to him this way just from a mindless touch, what would happen if he were to actually kiss me again as he did all those years ago? I couldn’t let it to get to that point; hell, I didn’t even know if he had feelings towards me anymore or if he was even married.

Swallowing past the lump that was in my throat, I nodded my head. Call me a glutton for punishment but I wanted to hear what he had to say. My curiosity always had gotten the best of me; I wanted to know what he’d been up to all these years.

He pulled me onto the dance floor and clutched me in his embrace much like Dean had but it felt so different. Instead of the junior high hand placement, he drew my right hand up with his left and held it so that it rested against his heart while his free hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him. His rapid heartbeat was the first thing I noticed because it matched my own. He was affected by this just as much as I was. The ring finger on his left hand was bare, which was the next thing I noticed. All of my senses were hyper-aware; my body melted into his as I filled my nostrils with his scent.

The song began playing and we started swaying back and forth with the smallest of actions. I couldn’t look him in the eyes, because I didn’t want to begin the backlash on either of our parts so I focused all of my attention on our joined hands until he finally spoke.

“Do you know this song?” What was with everyone asking me if I knew certain songs? So I thought I would tell him exactly what all I knew about this song…

“”(You Want To) Make A Memory” by Bon Jovi. From their tenth album entitled “Lost Highway.” I believe it was released in March of 2007 but I wouldn’t quote me on the exact day.” The look on his face was too much for me, so I tipped my head back and let out a hearty laugh.

“God, it’s so great to see your smile,” he said without breaking eye contact. With our eyes we portrayed every single feeling that we had felt while we had been apart. In this moment I had never felt more exposed or on display and it all happened just looking into the depths of each other’s souls.

I averted my eyes, looking down at our interlocked hands once again, “I’m a radio DJ, and music trivia is kind of my thing.”

“I remember…”

I felt like it was my turn to ask a question but I hadn’t planned on what came flying out of my mouth next. “Are you married?” I couldn’t believe that I had let it slip; in my line of work I had to be careful of thinking before I spoke, otherwise I could end up saying something completely offensive on the air.

He released a long, drawn-out deep sigh, which forced me to hold my breath as I began to regret my line of questioning until he answered, “Once upon a time I was, but that ship has long since sailed.”

Without a beat I had to know, “To Kristina?”

Another sigh escaped, “Yeah, to Kristina.”

Deep in my heart I knew he had married her. That would mean that the girl I saw at the airport was most likely hers.

“So was Dean your divorce lawyer?”

“Yeah, how’d you guess?” He asked with a bit of annoyance.

I shrugged a shoulder; I had really just assumed that he’d volunteer to represent him. Back then Dean hated Kristina just as much as I did. “Dean just never really was fond of her back in the day, so I figured he’d snap up the chance to show her what for.”

“You really aren’t wrong there. He was able to get me full custody of my daughter, Norah. It wasn’t like Kristina wanted much to do with her anyway.” My heart felt heavy in my chest for what his daughter must have been going through. If I were ever awarded with the chance to have a child there would be nothing that would stand in the way of that happiness.

He audibly swallowed which had my eyes snapping back up to his. “What about you?” he began, “is your husband good to you? I know I don’t see him here tonight and I didn’t see him at the airport, did he not join you?”

I felt my eyebrows lift clear into my hairline. What on earth was he talking about? “I don’t understand. I don’t have a husband, I’ve never been married. Hell, I’ve never even been close to marriage.”

The movement of his legs stopped instantly as he immediately dropped his arms away from me, almost as if my answer had burned his skin. “You’re not married?” He asked, flabbergasted.

“No…” I didn’t know how else to say the word.

“But your mom…”

Oh this was something that I had to hear, “My mom, what?”

“I wanted to know how your life was going, so a few years ago I asked your mom how you were. She kept boasting and rambling on and on about how fabulous your life was with your husband. So I dropped it and hadn’t asked about you since.”

I felt my blood pressure rise for the millionth time tonight but now it was because of pure rage. I saw red and was on the verge of seething. “Oh that’s rich, my mom meddles in my life extremely too much. Here lately she’s been trying to play matchmaker, even to the point of having my coworkers in on it and making a segment on the show every week about my blind dates. And then she tells the one person who I’ve ever loved that I was married.” I kept going on and on, pacing back and forth in front of Baylor in the middle of the floor. The Bon Jovi song had ended, changing to some sort of upbeat tune, but I was too pissed to even realize what it was.

“Wait, what did you just say? The one person you ever loved…me?” He kept on searching my eyes for his answer. Shit, did I actually say that? I couldn’t remember what had just come spewing out of my mouth.

I quickly shook my head; I didn’t need him to know my stance on things. He didn’t need the leverage against me, especially when I hadn’t gotten to the bottom of everything that had happened. “What? No…I didn’t say that. You must’ve misconstrued what I was saying. Listen,” I stopped pacing and perched one hand on my hip and the other against my head, “I’ve gotta go, my mom has a lot of explaining to do.”

Pivoting on my foot, I fled out the door before ever giving him the opportunity to respond. Bette Richardt had meddled around in my life for the last time.

It didn’t take me long at all to get home and even those few minutes did nothing to dissipate my rage. I slammed the door to my mother’s car and then stomped my feet all the way up the pathway to the front door. Once I made it inside I felt the need to destroy something so I slammed the front door as well, but it woke my father up from his position on his recliner making him almost jump out of his skin. “Eden! What the…?” He yelled as he tried to push the footrest of the chair back in place.

“Sorry, Daddy,” I snapped as I marched into the kitchen. “Mother!”

“What, dear?” She said as she came up behind me, drying her hands on an apple-patterned dish towel.

I pointed a finger in her direction, “You have a lot of explaining to do!”

Her eyes immediately went wide and she began fiddling with her hands, wringing them around the towel. “Eden, calm down.”

“Calm down? Why the hell would you tell Baylor that I was married?”

“Now Eden, I did it for your own good, I was protecting you.” She pulled out a chair and sat down at the same kitchen table that I used to do my homework on. By that time my father had made his presence known in the kitchen as well, with a perplexed look on his face that matched my own.

He took the chair right next to her and motioned to an empty one, “Eden, have a seat, I think your mother has a lot of explaining to do.” My dad didn’t ever raise his voice and he wasn’t even a man of many words but what he said in that house was law.

Her body shook at what she was about to reveal, but she forged on with a trembling voice, “I know I shouldn’t have stretched the truth-“

I quickly cut her off, “You didn’t stretch the truth, you outright lied!” I couldn’t help the fact that my voice raised a few octaves until it was almost a shout.

“Eden,” my dad warned.

“I know he was the one who broke your heart… The day after graduation you locked yourself in your room and cried yourself to sleep and the next day you wanted to go see your nana even though you never had before.” A sob threatened to erupt from my throat; that was a day that I remembered all too well but the pain had seemed to lessen when I was in Baylor’s embrace.

My mother covered my hand with hers, “Mothers know these things, dear. That boy broke your heart and took you away from us, so when he asked rather desperately about how you were, I wanted him to feel the pain and sorrow that he made you feel. I’m sorry, honey, I thought I was doing what was best for you at the time. You wouldn’t ever talk to me about what happened, so I took it into my own hands and dealt him a blow as he did to you.”

“Mom, what’s best for me now is to stop meddling in my life. That means no more signing me up for those matchmaking sites either.” I pointed my finger at her and she shyly and shamefully lowered her head once my dad shot her a warning glare.

“Jesus, Bette, does your interfering have no limits? What’s next, selling her hand to the highest bidder that you find? Let Eden live her life without her mother critiquing and hindering her every move!” He was past the point of reason; you could almost see the wheels turning in his mind at the realization of all that had gone on behind his back.

“I just want her to be happy!” She wailed out a sob. I decided my mother’s smothering concern had gone on long enough.

“I know you do, Mom, but I don’t need a man in my life in order to be happy.” I began ticking off things on my hand, “I have a successful radio show, my own home, the best of friends, and amazing and loving parents along with my health. For the most part I am happy.” But I couldn’t lie, a man would’ve been nice–most importantly one certain man. Was I ready to hear him open up about what had happened? Could my heart take being broken again? Especially when I didn’t think it was fully healed from the first time.

Knock…knock…knock

“Eden! Eden, are you up?”

I barely opened my right eye, squinting past the sun shining in through my window at my mother whose frame appeared at my bedroom door. I couldn’t hold back the audible grumble that erupted from my chest. “I am now…What time is it?” After the talk that took place between my parents and me, I hadn’t gone to bed until well after three. I immediately called Julia, even though it was even later for her, and caught her up on everything that took place at the bar. I begged her to come and be my buffer but all she did was laugh in my ear at my expense. What a best friend.

“It’s almost nine. I have a favor to ask of you,” she said while clasping the ends of her gold watch around her left wrist. I normally didn’t agree to favors before I at least had one cup of coffee in my system, but by the looks of things she wasn’t going to let it rest until I did. “Will you listen for the door and let the plumber in? Someone should be coming to look at the drain in the bathtub. I’ve got to meet Jan and the girls for book club.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Since when did my mother join a book club? I couldn’t remember a time where she was even reading a book let along joining a club about it. I grabbed a handful of material and stuffing from my other pillow and plunged it over my head to drown out any further noise and sunlight filtering in from my window. I really needed to at least put a blanket over that sucker; it didn’t make sense to go out and buy a blackout curtain since I’d only be there a few more days. But that direct sunlight in the morning was enough to make a girl go insane, and people thought PMS was bad.

Knock…knock…knock

Why in the hell wasn’t anyone answering the door? “Mom!” I yelled out, only to hear continued silence. The noise was intensifying the unrelenting pounding that was occurring between my ears. Then I remembered her informing me about the plumber coming by. I sat up in the middle of my bed and had to grasp my head with both hands. The banging increased substantially with every little movement.

Knock…knock…knock

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” I shouted while I flung back my covers and retrieved my tattered old bathrobe from my desk chair. My posture was slumped over as I leisurely dragged my feet on the carpet all the way to the front door. I reached up on my tiptoes to try and get a look at who it was, not that I would know them anymore, and only came up with the work truck. They must’ve stepped out of the way of the door.

Yanking the door open with way more force than I intended to, I was met face to face with Baylor Jenkins. “What in the world are you doing here?” I challenged, pulling my robe together and tying the belt closed, and then looking out past his dumfounded expression and the railing on the porch to a work truck that indeed had Jenkins Plumbing embossed on the driver’s side door.

Once my double take was complete, I gave another sly gander only to see him watching me intently with a clipboard in his clutch. “Well good morning to you, too.” I rolled my eyes. “Your mom called this morning and said it was an emergency.”

“I’ll bet she did. I call this another case of her meddlesome self” I muttered exasperatedly to myself.

He flicked his eyes up from his work order and raised a brow, “Care to elaborate?”

“Not so much.” I opened the door a little further and waved a hand allowing him to enter. “Well, Mom said that the bathtub was clogged; you are no stranger to this house and nothing has moved in decades I think.”

His eyes adjusted once more to mine as he indicated, “I didn’t used to be a stranger to you either but look at us now, trying to dance around each other’s emotions and not knowing what to say.” He drifted right by me making me feel inept all over again. I deserved the cold shoulder treatment, but didn’t he equally deserve it as well? He was making me feel like I was the one to blame for my disappearance when in fact it was him.

I walked into the kitchen and prayed to the coffee God that there were at least a few droplets left in the carafe and to my surprise mom left almost an entire pot. Thank Jesus! Retrieving a mug, I doctored it up to my specific tastes and took a hefty gulp before I headed off to clean myself up a bit. Once I could feel the coffee filtering through my veins a light bulb went off, we only had one bathroom. While growing up it didn’t bother me because I was an only child and I didn’t have to fight for a turn. But suddenly having one bathroom was coming back to bite me in the ass. Baylor was working on our one said bathroom which meant I couldn’t get a shower, so he was going to have to suffer through me looking like shit, again.

Would I ever be fully on my game around him?

What game? I retorted back. Out of the three times I’d seen him since I’d come home, I’d been unbathed for two and inebriated for one. I was trying to win a constant losing battle.

Hearing the clinking of his tools did absolutely nothing to soothe my headache, but the uncomfortable silence was near deafening. I walked down the hallway to the bathroom and leaned my body and head against the door frame with my coffee in hand. “Why aren’t you an architect?” I asked in a low voice.

He paused what he was doing, wrench in hand suspended in midair and sighed. Throwing the tool back in the toolbox, he wiped his hand on his carpenter jeans. “Now she wants to talk,” he muttered under his breath just loud enough for me to hear. The tension in the tiny bathroom was unsurmountable; you’d have one hell of a time cutting through it with a machete. “I have my degree in architecture but shortly after graduation Dad got sick, too sick to work anymore. So I did my duty as a son to take over the family business since that’s what my family relied on for income. My mother owns seventy-five percent of the company now and I own twenty-five, and I can’t just let it run into the ground.”

“Is your dad better?”

He sighed again, which seemed to be a common theme around me lately, “He died almost eight years ago. When I said he got sick I was really just sugarcoating it. He found out that he had terminal cancer, stage three in the lungs. He was really lucky that he made it as long as he had, but he was a fighter and loved my mother something fierce, and he didn’t want to leave her alone. So now I take full responsibility for the company and Bentley works under me.” My hand had automatically covered my heart at the news of Mr. Jenkins passing. He was a wonderful man and I loved him as a second father; it broke my heart that my mom didn’t let me know. And to hear that Baylor was still such a truly selfless man, giving up his dreams in order to keep the family business alive, raised him even further in my estimation.

I didn’t really know what else to say, so I thought to bring up a safe subject, “How is Bentley?” Baylor was older than his brother Bentley by four years, and I remembered that during our senior year Bentley wanted to follow us around all the time.

“Bentley is Bentley, I suppose. I’m a hard ass on him only because it keeps him out of trouble.” You could see the pressure that was on Baylor’s shoulders, he was weighted down with not only being a father but also being the only dependable son. “Now since you are bombarding me with questions, it’s my turn…” I immediately held my breath almost as if I was waiting for the blow that was bound to occur. “Why did you run off last night?” My lungs deflated as my breath fled from my lips. “No, wait. The question that I really want to know is what happened to you fifteen years ago? Why did you run off?”

There it was, the blow that I had been anticipating since arriving back home. Since the elephant in the room had finally been addressed, my wall that I had strongly built was obliterated into a pile of useless bricks. My anger spiked and I slammed down my now-empty mug on the bathroom counter. “You think you have the right to ask me that?” I shouted.

“You’re damn straight I do!” He rose from his crouched down position and took a step between us, closing the distance as he grabbed ahold of my hand. “That was supposed to be our time, our summer, Edie.”

Oh God, why now? I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. Why of all the opportunities that he’d had did he chose that moment to call me Edie?